[She hums softly in acknowledgement, a noise that manages to still sound inhuman even in this form. 'Humans are weak,' he says, and she wants to point out that he's not wholly so-- but she refrains. She's learned by now that being 'human' was important to Adolf, for the similar reasons that not being so was for Oona. While she might encourage him to embrace the more inhuman sides of himself... Well. She wouldn't want him to change either way. She liked the human parts of him just as well, liked being able to point out behaviors and things and teasingly tell him how 'human' it was.
Her hands move up to lay over the hands that cup her face. He won't--can't--tell her to leave. The anchor has finally been dropped, a ship come to port at long last. She had thought about how she might feel on this sort of occasion before, and had met it with uncertainty. But now... There was no hesitation. There was no jittery anxiety telling her to flee; all she wanted was to sink in and accept this as inevitable. It wasn't 'enough,' now, it was 'just right.'
I like you, Adolf. [But then she pauses, hesitates.] Ah... No. I told you I do not lie. I do not like you. [Her smile turns sheepish and surprisingly shy, sweet, and she averts her gaze as best she can when their faces are so close. Her face turns warm beneath his hands, her heart thudding in her chest again]
I... love you. [She liked many people, but this certainly went beyond that. Perhaps 'love' was a little too strong a word. Perhaps all of her romantic inclinations hadn't been totally squashed by life (if her over-fondness of soap operas and romance novels was any indication), but there was a sense of 'yes that's the right word to describe this' when she said it as her shoulders relax. Being honest was always a bit cathartic.]
Yes, that is the word I want to use. I can not say 'like' anymore without it feeling strange. A lie on my tongue. I do not like you, it goes beyond that. [She glances at him and then away again] ...I love you. [A soft laugh and she smiles] Perhaps mermaids are weak that way too.
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Her hands move up to lay over the hands that cup her face. He won't--can't--tell her to leave. The anchor has finally been dropped, a ship come to port at long last. She had thought about how she might feel on this sort of occasion before, and had met it with uncertainty. But now... There was no hesitation. There was no jittery anxiety telling her to flee; all she wanted was to sink in and accept this as inevitable. It wasn't 'enough,' now, it was 'just right.'
I like you, Adolf. [But then she pauses, hesitates.] Ah... No. I told you I do not lie. I do not like you. [Her smile turns sheepish and surprisingly shy, sweet, and she averts her gaze as best she can when their faces are so close. Her face turns warm beneath his hands, her heart thudding in her chest again]
I... love you. [She liked many people, but this certainly went beyond that. Perhaps 'love' was a little too strong a word. Perhaps all of her romantic inclinations hadn't been totally squashed by life (if her over-fondness of soap operas and romance novels was any indication), but there was a sense of 'yes that's the right word to describe this' when she said it as her shoulders relax. Being honest was always a bit cathartic.]
Yes, that is the word I want to use. I can not say 'like' anymore without it feeling strange. A lie on my tongue. I do not like you, it goes beyond that. [She glances at him and then away again] ...I love you. [A soft laugh and she smiles] Perhaps mermaids are weak that way too.